Oma’s palace buzzed with the low hum of conversation, the clink of silverware against porcelain, and the occasional burst of laughter from nearby tables.
The aroma of freshly made als, coffee mixed with the sweetness of baked pastries, curled through the air and wrapped the room in comfort. The afternoon sun filtered through the tall windows, casting warm, golden streaks across the wooden floor. It was the kind of place that begged for nostalgia.
Serena and Vincent had spent the last thirty minutes slipping back into the easy rhythm of their old friendship—trading stories, teasing each other, laughing in a way that almost made it feel like no ti had passed at all. Almost.
They talked about everything and nothing—childhood mischief, inside jokes that hadn’t lost their charm, silly argunts from years ago. Serena found herself laughing more than she had in weeks, maybe even months.
There was sothing familiar about Vincent, sothing safe and grounding. Maybe because he had been all she knew for most of her childhood. For a brief mont, she allowed herself to pretend that things were as simple as they used to be.
But then, for what felt like the hundredth ti, Vincent’s gaze dropped to her left hand—to the ring that sat snugly on her finger. Lucian’s ring. A delicate but unmistakable symbol. His smile faltered, the warmth in his eyes dimming like a candle flickering in a draft.
"Why do you still have it on?" he said, his voice quieter now, rougher.
Serena instinctively pulled her hand from the table, tucking it into her lap as if she could change the fact that he had seen it with that simple action. "I already told you why I have and need to keep it on," she said, but the words sounded flimsy even to her own ears. Her voice lacked conviction, and she knew it.
The truth was, she didn’t fully understand why it was still there. After the night of the gala, she should have taken it off. Should have tossed it into a drawer, returned it to him, thrown it into the damn river for all she cared. But she hadn’t—and she strangely didn’t want to. The fact that Lucian hadn’t removed his either only made it feel less awkward to leave hers on.
There was a part of her that hated that ring—hated everything it stood for. And yet, it remained. She was no longer the sa person that arrived at the Draven mansion so ti ago.
If it were to be that girl, she would have gotten rid of that ring the very mont they returned from that gala. But sothing had changed inside of her, and although she knew it, she adamantly refused to admit it.
Vincent exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. His fingers clenched around his wine glass until his knuckles turned white. "You don’t need to play Lucian’s gas, Serena. Don’t let him manipulate you. He is a manipulator. That is the only thing he’s good at."
Serena didn’t respond. What could she say? That she wasn’t playing along? That she didn’t even know what she was doing anymore?
She looked past Vincent, her eyes settling on a couple seated at a nearby table—two people lost in each other’s presence, smiling over half-drunk lattes and shared dessert. It seed so effortless for them. She envied that ease, that simplicity. Love for them hadn’t co with terms, conditions, modern-day witchcraft, or dark politics lurking in the shadows.
Why couldn’t her life be that easy? Why did she have to be the manifestation of soone’s dark thoughts and desires?
Vincent’s fingers tapped restlessly against the table before he leaned in, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "Co with . I know how to keep you safe. I’ll take you sowhere that the Council will never find you, no matter how much they looked."
The offer hung between them, heavy and pleading. It was bold, reckless even—but not unexpected.
Vincent had always been the one to offer escape, to promise freedom. And deep down, part of her longed to believe him. To believe in the possibility of peace.
Vincent waited for her response, the mory of Carter’s cold suggestion ringing in his mind:
Convince her to sleep with Lucian. To have his child. It’s the only way you’ll ever get her back.
The thought alone made his stomach twist. How could he ever ask that of her? How could he look into her eyes—those eyes he’d spent half his life longing to lose himself in—and tell her to give herself to a monster like Lucian? No. He couldn’t. Wouldn’t. And the fact that she clearly had no desire to be with the man only made his resolve stronger.
Serena shook her head, a sad, knowing smile touching her lips. "It’s not that easy, Vincent."
"It is easy," he insisted, reaching for her hand again, his grip firm. "You just have to choose what’s best for you. Your happiness. Us."
She looked down at their joined hands, at the contrast between his rough, calloused fingers and the cold gleam of Lucian’s ring. The weight of it pressed into her skin—a constant, unyielding reminder of the chains she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—break.
She rembered a ti when Vincent’s touch had ant everything. When the feel of his hand in hers could still her anxious heart, could silence all the noise. But that was before. Before everything changed.
For the first ti in years, she wished things could be simple. That she could just walk away.
But the world had never been kind enough to let her go that easily.
Serena shook her head again. No matter how tempting Vincent’s offer sounded, it wasn’t for her—not anymore. She was tired of running, tired of the gas, and things had already grown far too complicated. But instead of telling him that outright, knowing he’d only keep pushing, she decided to take another route.
"It’s going to be hard to just leave everything behind and choose my own happiness," she said softly. "Maybe I need so ti to think about it."
Vincent nodded, his eyes lighting up with the hope that he was finally making progress. "Yes, Serena, you should think about it. And do it fast," he added with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
She returned the gesture, mustering a small smile of her own. "I think I should go now."
She reached for her bag, her movents slow, almost reluctant.
Vincent looked at her, baffled.
"You just got here a few minutes ago. Why do you want to leave already?" His tone was laced with concern, but there was also sothing else—sothing almost accusatory. "Are you running away?" he asked, eyes narrowing slightly.
Serena froze for a second. Was she running? Perhaps. Or maybe she was just trying to breathe. Trying to hold on to the little control she had left in a world that seed determined to spin off its axis.
Before she could answer, he cut in again, his voice lower, softer. "Listen, Serena. I’m not pressuring you, okay? I just care. I care about your safety and your happiness. That’s all. I’m doing everything I can to make sure you feel even a fraction of what you felt back then... when things were easier."
Serena looked at him for a long mont, her chest tightening with emotions she couldn’t put into words. Emotions that tangled with her anger, her confusion.
She didn’t respond.
Instead, she gave him a slow nod. "I understand, Vincent. I just need ti to think about it."
"Will you call then while thinking about it? I waited for your call all these days, and I didn’t get it. Is Lucian restricting your movent and your actions in his house?" Vincent probed, with a serious expression on his face.
"No, Lucian is not doing anything," Serena instantly defended, again for reasons she couldn’t fathom. Normally, she would confide in Vincent—he was her friend, anyway, and wanted nothing but the best for her. But she found herself hesitating. Whether it was the words Adrian said to her while they were coming or the internal war she was fighting, she wasn’t sure which one made her feel the need to defend him.
"I didn’t call you because I lost the card you gave , thereby losing your number. If you could give it—" she didn’t complete the request before Vincent brought out another card and handed it to her.
"Call ," he said, and she nodded with a smile before she turned and walked away.
The sound of her heels clicking softly against the hardwood floor was drowned by the ambient noise inside the building, but Vincent heard it all the sa. Each step carried her a little farther from him, from the past they’d once shared—and from the future he so desperately wished for. But that only fueled his determination to get her back, no matter the cost.
As she reached the door, hand resting on the polished brass handle, she hesitated just for a second. Not long enough to turn back. But just enough to rember.
Then, without another word, she pushed the door open and stepped out, Adrian silently following behind her.
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